Don't Leave Me
by Max Mahr
Summary: When John is held hostage in their own flat by Moriarty, will Sherlock be able to stop Moriarty from killing John? Oneshot, beginnings of Johnlock.


**A/N: **_Hello, dearies. I've been overwhelmed by a busy schedule recently, so pardon the absolutely terrible updates on my other story. As an apology, here is a one-shot collaboration between myself and a stranger._

**Disclaimer: **_Don't own anything Sherlock-related_

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I think you should start making your way back to 221B. Johnny boy here looks like he needs your help...-JM

What have you done to him? SH

Nothing yet... JM

I'll be sure to get there before you do anything. SH

Don't get too cocky. -JM

I could say the same thing to you. SH

Really? Because I'm the one who has a gun to his head. Well, not /me/. -JM

If you or your men harm John in any way, you will regret it. SH

Oh really? -JM

I can promise you that. SH

Does the name Sebastian Moran sound familiar? -JM

Of course it does. He is your favoured hit man. Why? SH

Well, he is my favourite hit man because he is the best and what he does. And he is one who broke John's bones and now has a gun to his head. -JM

In that case, you may never see your favourite hit man again. Now, if you excuse me, I must save my blogger. SH

I would like to see you try... -JM

Watch me. SH

Sherlock pocketed his phone and flew out of the cab, completely ignoring the cabbie as he made his way up to 221B. Heart racing, he quickly opened the door and climbed the stairs leading up to the flat. The only thing on his mind was saving John, and he paid little attention to anything else as he entered the sitting room. "John?" He called out, examining the room for any signs of a struggle.

John was sitting in the couch. His entire faced seemed to be covered with blood and he had a few broken limbs. This included, a fracture to the head, broken ankle, dislocated shoulder, at few broken fingers and some broken ribs. Despite a broken body and a gun at his head, John nearly jumped with anticipation when he saw Sherlock enter the room. Moriarty however, seemed a little too please with Sherlock's sudden appearance. The crooked man took his attention off of John and Sebastian and turned towards Sherlock. "Hello dear." He said slyly.

Rage flared up in Sherlock, and he had to fight to keep himself from lashing out and killing Moriarty and Sebastian for hurting John as he had, knowing that doing so would only worsen the situation. "What the hell have you done to him?" He practically yelled, ignoring Moriarty's greeting and cutting to the heart of the matter. He took a step towards John as he began to assess the wounds that covered John's body, coming to the conclusion that he needed to get to a hospital, and fast.

John was more than grateful to have Sherlock in the room with them. But having him close like this made a sensation of relief wash over him. He let out a sigh and still refused to budge even an inch. "Move away." Sebastian turned to Sherlock and spoke with a deep voice. As he spoke he raised the gun and put it even closer to John's head. "I think you should listen to Sebby." Moriarty's grin grew as he spoke.

Sherlock took a large step back, moving his hands so they were grasping each other behind his back, trying to hide the fact that his hands were shaking with anger. He locked eyes with John, the mix of fear and concern and relief obvious in his eyes. The image of Sebastian holding a gun to John's head burned itself into Sherlock's mind, and he took a deep breath to tried and collect his thoughts. "Why are you doing all of this?" Sherlock asked, glaring at Moriarty.

At Sherlock's words, Moriarty started laughing. It only lasted a few moments, but it was enough to send shivers down John's spine. Moriarty took a step closer to Sherlock. Not too closer though. "Honey, this is what we call 'two birds, one stone.' I kill John, and killing John would surely kill you." The smile on Moriarty's face as he spoke made John sick to his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to punch in into oblivion. But he couldn't. This being because if he were to do that, he would be a dead man.

"No," Sherlock breathed before he could stop himself. He tried to think of a way out of the situation where both he and John were relatively unharmed, but found there was no possible way for that to happen unless Lestrade were to show up, which was unlikely seeing as Sherlock hadn't called him earlier. "What fun is there in just killing him, therefore killing me?" Sherlock asked, trying to find a way to keep John alive for at least a little bit longer. "Let John go now, and you can do with me whatever you so desire," He pleaded.

Moriarty smiled and then proceeded to walk across the room where he then sat in Sherlock's chair. "I don't want to kill you!" Moriarty crossed his legs and went on. "Killing you would be no fun. If I killed you, I wouldn't have a playmate anymore. But by killing John, I would be killing your heart. And without a heart, you wouldn't have any emotions. Therefore, our game would be much more fun." John's heart was now racing. The moment he Sebastian put a gun to his head he knew that there was no way out of this alive. Moriarty's words just proved him right.

Sherlock cringed at the realization that there was practically no possibility of John getting out of this situation alive. "Who is to say that our game would continue with John gone?" Sherlock asked as he watched Moriarty move and take a seat in his favourite chair. "How do you know that I won't kill myself once John is gone? You would be without a playmate forever," He continued, locking eyes with Moriarty.

Because I know you, Sherlock." Moriarty leaned back into the chair and kept a grin on his face. "You won't kill yourself. Instead you're going to be so angry with me that you'll come after me, which is exactly how this game is supposed to be played." Moriarty then turned his attention back to Sebastian. "Make it a slow one." Moriarty got up and looked at Sherlock once more before a shot was fired directly into John's chest. "I'll be leaving now, come on Seb." And with that, Moriarty was gone, leaving only John and Sherlock in the flat.

Before Sherlock could say anything in response to Moriarty, he watched as Sebastian fired a shot into John's chest. "John!" He cried out, running across the room to where John was sitting on the couch. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, it was not supposed to happen this way, Sherlock thought as he took off his scarf and pressed it gently against the bullet wound in John's chest. "John, look at me," He said as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. With his other hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, quickly calling for an ambulance. "I'm so sorry," He muttered, reaching up and cupping John's chin with his hand.

It all happened too fast for John. First he had a Sebastian standing next to him and the next he was in a tremendous amount of pain. But it was alright. This being because Sherlock was here. He knew he was going to be okay. With a shaky hand, he reached up and brought his hand around the back of Sherlock's neck. "P-please...D-Don't..." He took a deep breath. "...Apologize." He brought his hand from the back of Sherlock's neck and put it on his cheek to wipe away the tears that clung to the bottom of his lashes.

A surprised expression passed over Sherlock's face as he felt John's hand on the back of his neck, then relaxed into John's touch as it came to rest on his cheek. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down slightly, Sherlock smiled and locked eyes with John. He moved the hand on John's chin down slightly to the pulse point on his neck, and noticed the irregular and weakening beating of his heart, then moved his hand back up to its original position. "If the chance never arises for me to say it again, I love you, John Watson," He said as he adjusted his hold on the scarf, tears streaming down his face.

John reached up with his other hand and was now cupping Sherlock's face in his hands. Slowly, he pulled him down and pressed his lips against Sherlock's in a soft and weak kiss. He stayed like that for a moment. The kiss made all his pain go away. The bullet wound, the broken bones...everything, It was as if this one little kiss was strong enough to drown out all the pain. That's why John stayed there for longer than necessary, because it felt good. After moments of hesitation, he pulled back. Wiping the tears from Sherlock's face he spoke with a broken voice. "I l-love you too." John smiled and let tears fall from his own eyes.

Though briefly caught off-guard by John's sudden kiss, Sherlock immediately returned the kiss, leaning forward to bring himself closer to John. Suddenly, nothing in the world mattered any more. Not Moriarty, not Sebastian, not the bullet wound in John's chest nor the sound of a siren growing increasingly louder as it approached the flat. The only thing that mattered was that John loved Sherlock and the feel of John's lips against his own. As John pulled away, Sherlock was brought back to the harsh reality, and he couldn't help but grin as he heard John's confession. Moving to his knees so he was roughly the same height as John, Sherlock leaned forward and captured John's lips in another brief kiss. "Just hold on, John, an ambulance will be here soon," He said quietly, brushing his thumb across John's cheek and wiping away the tears just as John had done to him before.

John was trying his hardest to fight back tears, however that was difficult. In less than a second, John had tears streaming down his face and his whole body was shaking. He couldn't go, not yet. Sherlock had just told him he loved him. He can't leave. "I-I don't w-want to die." John's sobs didn't slow down, but they didn't get any worse.

"John, you aren't going to die," Sherlock murmured, not only in an attempt to convince John of this but also to convince himself of this. "Even if you do, we won't be separated for long. I have no intention of living without you, and would find it very impossible to do so. I love you," He added, repeatedly brushing his thumb across John's cheek as the tears continued to fall in a steady stream. He leaned over and pressed his lips against John's once more, taking John's hand in his.

As much as John wanted to just get lost in the kiss, Sherlock's words kept repeating itself over and over in his head. With whatever strength he had left, and as much as it pained him to do so, he pushed Sherlock away. "D-Don't. I-If I leave...Y-You need t-to st-stay alive." John didn't want to die. Neither did he want Sherlock dying.

Sherlock frowned as John pushed him away, but understood why he did so. Sherlock took John's hand and placed it over his heart, his own hand on top of it and holding it there. "I promise not to, but let us hope that I will never have to fulfill that promise," He muttered, resting his forehead against John's and keeping eye contact with him. "I love you, and I'm not going to lose you." The shrill cry of a siren signaled that an ambulance had pulled up outside of their building, and soon paramedics were hustling about the flat. They took John from Sherlock's arms and quickly loaded him into the ambulance, however after a heated argument with one of the paramedics, Sherlock managed to convince them to allow him to stay with John, and for the duration of the ride, he never let go of John's hand.

After Sherlock's words, John remembers only drifting into unconsciousness. His whole world suddenly went black. Afterwards, the blackness that over took him was now fading, what replaced it however was something beautiful. It started off at St. Bart's, where Sherlock and John first met, it then faded to their dinner at Angelo's and the laugh they shared on their way back, the next thing he knew, they were at Buckingham Palace, Sherlock was wearing nothing more than a sheet. The images before his eyes grew faster and faster, switching between laughs and arguments. When he finally came to, he thought he had died. But, there was a familiar hand in his. Opening his eyes slowly and allowing them to adjust to the harsh light, he looked over and saw Sherlock at his side. "Sherlock..." It came out so quiet he was worried that he might have not been heard.

The better part of the ride to the hospital had been filled with fear of losing John, as the men in the ambulance worked to catalogue John's extensive list of injuries. Sherlock stood off to the side, refusing to let go of John's hand, even as they pulled up to the hospital. It was only as John was taken into intensive care to be operated on immediately that Sherlock was forced to let go, or risk getting kicked out of the hospital. After hours of operation, John finally emerged, unconscious but alive, and was taken to a special room that Mycroft had managed to arrange for him to stay in during his recovery. Days later, as Sherlock once again held John's hand in his own, he could just barely make out someone saying his name. Looking up, he realised that John was awake, and he grinned. "John," he breathed, squeezing John's hand.

Seeing Sherlock and hearing his name escape his lips put a big smile on John's face. Seeing and hearing Sherlock proved that he was in fact alive. This meant that after some time they could go home, him and Sherlock. John gave Sherlock's hand a light squeeze and let go for only a moment. Having let go, John tried his best to scoot over and ignored the pain that followed. Leaving what he thought was enough room, he turned back to Sherlock. "Would you lie down with me?"

Chuckling, Sherlock watched as John tried to move over and make enough room for him to lie down next to him. "You need to be careful, John," Sherlock scolded light-heatedly, "Don't push yourself." Even when he was in a hospital with life-threatening injuries, Sherlock couldn't help but admire John for all that he was. With the little room that John had left him by moving over, Sherlock climbed onto the bed next to John, lying on his back but with his head turned to face John. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

John looked down at Sherlock with a warm smile on his face. "I'm fine." John then reached his hand around Sherlock and carefully pulled him in closer. "I missed you." Honestly, John wasn't really aware of how much time had passed between leaving the flat and being in the hospital. But he knew it was longer than necessary.

Hearing John's words once again brought tears to Sherlock's eyes, in what was sure to become a characteristic response. "You've been out for several days," He said, cautiously inching closer to John so that he didn't accidentally bump one of his several wounds. "Needless to say, I've missed you too." Sherlock relaxed knowing that John was fine now, and cupped John's chin, turning his head so he was facing Sherlock and captured his lips in a quick kiss.

That kiss once again managed to take all of John's pain away. He lifted his hand and rested it on Sherlock's hip, tracing small circles with his thumb. Afterwards, John pulled back and left his head only a few inches away from Sherlock's, their lips merely resting on one another. John smiled, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Sherlock breathed, not wanting to move and ruin this rare moment of peace.


End file.
